


In This Endless Blue

by shadownashira



Category: American Idol RPF, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, American Idol - RPS, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadownashira/pseuds/shadownashira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how it goes: a Royal Navy soldier will love an immortal pirate who sails the <i>Flying Dutchman</i> between the realms of the living and the dead. The pirate will love him back.</p><p>American Idol RPF fusion with <i>Pirates of the Caribbean</i>. First written and posted about a year ago for the Disney Cookleta challenge. I know it says major character death, but keep in mind the summary, and that this is set in the <i>Pirates</i> universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Endless Blue

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on LJ [here](http://disneycookleta.livejournal.com/5567.html).

David has never really thought of himself as vain, but he finds himself really bothered by the tiny scales spreading from his right elbow. It’s inevitable, really, since he’s entering his third year into servitude to Davy Jones, but he had been hoping that the changes would be slower. He angles his arm into a shaft of light from an open porthole; the scales are dull, tarnished silver with a tint of blue. The patch curling around his upper arm are as hard as steel, while the scales around the joints of his elbow give slightly when he presses down with his fingertips – like the row that go down the line of his spine, these are malleable to allow easy movement. 

Opposite him, the door leading up to the deck of the ship creaks open, and one of the crew enters. The afternoon light spills into the hold of the ship, but David doesn’t look too closely at what the illumination reveals of the dingy surroundings. Instead, he sighs and pushes the sleeve of his tunic back down to hide his arm and gets up off the grimy floor. The one who came in – someone with a lobster-head whose name David doesn’t know – kicks Bootstrap Bill who is dozing nearby. Bootstrap wakes with a start, sending tiny crabs scuttling, but doesn’t waste time in stumbling to his feet. David follows, picking his way across to the door, shuddering when he barely avoids stepping on someone’s tentacle, which is oozing slime. It’s the change of watch duty, and the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ doesn’t tolerate tardiness from his crew.

***

_David and his father debate for a time whether to continue on their usual route through Port Gale, given the numerous reports from travellers about the strange disease that had cropped up in recent months there, the number of deaths increasing every week. But they have a few high-paying regular customers there, and skipping the port town will mean having to travel further out later in the year to make up for lost profits, so eventually they load up their merchandise and set off, intent on staying only for Market Day and getting back on the first ship leaving port the next morning._

_It turns out to be a mistake._

***

Being an immortal pirate has its benefits. One of the chief advantages is that he can’t die. He’s also much stronger than before, and he can do things like meld into the sea and travel great distances in seconds.

David learns very quickly, however, that these are all outweighed by the fact that his soul is enslaved to the captain. How the crew of the _Flying Dutchman_ exists is based on her captain, and Davy Jones is not a kind one. He is bitter, vengeful, and cruel. David knows this because the nature of the captain influences the crew, and most of the crew lost their sanity a long time ago. 

David is still sane – at least, he hopes he is – and he wonders how long it’ll take to lose himself and forget why he’s here in the first place.

***

_Port Gale is located on a relatively small island, but it is the only harbour for miles around and so it is usually a bustling place, especially on Market Day. David doesn’t like the heaviness present in the air, the area burdened by the strange disease that has delivered more and more souls into the Black God’s hands, and he doesn’t like the itching at the back of his neck that tells him the worst has yet to come._

_By noon, news spread from the docks that the merchant ship delivering medicines for the treatment of the disease had been damaged in a storm, losing most of their cargo in the process. That piece of information, however, is not the one which triggers the riots. It is the sighting of Royal Navy ships converging on the island, and the rumours of the Governor and his family leaving their emptied mansion, that does it. It doesn’t take long for the population of Port Gale to comprehend what is about to happen; after all, the same thing had happened to Isla Dacrues when the Black Death had overtaken the island just two years ago._

_In the space of an hour, the peaceful port town transforms into a panicked riot of people desperately trying to flee the island as the Navy fleet surrounds it, acting as a physical barrier._

_The Navy is letting people leave – but only those traders and merchants who have recently arrived within the past two days. The response is ugly and immediate; it’s obvious that the Navy had never considered the consequences of that particular announcement. People scour the inns favoured by visiting merchants, desperate to get a hold of the trading tokens issued to each during arrival at the port._

_It’s impossible to get to the docks without being attacked, so David and his father barricade themselves in an abandoned storehouse, and pray._

***

Occasionally, David finds himself with sword in hand, fighting with the occupants of whichever unfortunate ship has been targeted. What’s terrifying is shaking himself out of a daze to discover his hands and clothes stained with blood, and seeing bodies sprawled lifelessly around him while his crewmates laugh madly at the chaos, and he _can’t remember what happened_. He knows he’s responsible for at least some of the death and destruction around them, and the horror of it all pushes him closer to breaking each time it happens.

The only thing worse is that day after day, he finds himself caring less and less about what he is doing.

After all, remorse and sorrow are only experienced by those who are human and alive, and David is neither.

***

_His memory of the events in the storehouse are soundless, some mechanic of his mind blocking out everything but his sight, so David can never remember the loud splintering of the wooden door or his own terrible screams or his father choking on his own blood. What he does remember are the wild-eyed men kicking in the door to the storehouse, his father jumping protectively in front of him, the tangle of bodies as his father is tackled to the ground, the glint of a knife, then the crimson splatter of blood._

_The wide, empty eyes of his father as he lies dead on the ground with a knife in his gut._

_Scarlet smears of blood all over the men’s hands as they approach him._

_Red military uniforms filling the room and beating back his father’s killers._

_Then hazel eyes and red-brown hair filling his vision._

_His mind blanks out at that point, a period of time when he doesn’t know what happened. David doesn’t know if he should be relieved or not, but the next thing he does remember is waking up in a cabin accompanied by the familiar rock and sway motion of the sea._

***

“Lad, thinking too hard about this will drive you barmy faster than the captain does,” Bootstrap says in a low voice. They’re in the crow’s nest, the _Dutchman_ anchored in the middle of nowhere, everything dark and still around them. Bootstrap is the only one on the ship aside from David who seems to have retained most of his awareness and humanity, and consequently he’s the one David feels the most comfortable broaching the topic of his turmoil with.

“If I don’t think about it, I’m scared I’ll go mad even more quickly,” David confesses. He rubs absently at the ridges developing along his jaw. It’s even more unlikely now that he’ll be able to pass for normal; the bumpy skin on his face can be explained away as a skin condition, but there’s nothing human in the slit-pupil eyes he’d developed overnight. “How do you do this?”

“This?”

“Fighting. Stealing. Killing.”

Bootstrap sighs. “I was a pirate when I was alive, boy. What I did then isn’t much different from what I do now.”

“Murdering innocent people for no reason?”

He grimaces. “No. Jack wasn’t that kind of captain.”

“Then why are we different?”

“You know the answer to that question, lad,” Bootstrap responds. “Why are you here?”

“My siblings are still out there. I’m worried about them. I can’t – can’t let them go. “ He can’t let Cook go, either.

“It’s the same for me; my son is out there.”

The news of how Bootstrap’s son had challenged the captain to a game and won had spread fast, and so had the news about his escape. “Your son is brave. You must be proud.”

Bootstrap nods slowly. “I am.” He pauses, then lowers his voice even further so that David has to strain to hear him. “He said he’ll find a way to free me of this curse.”

Both of them look down uneasily at the rest of the ship, even though all is quiet and there’s no movement to be seen. 

“And I actually believe he can do it,” Bootstrap breathes, and there’s a tendril of hope in his voice that startles David. Hope is something that’s scarce on this ship, crushed beneath the weight of the curse and the viciousness of this existence. “He stole the key.”

Shock races through him. “The key? The one that – ” The key to the chest containing their captain’s heart. The key to the crew’s freedom.

Bootstrap is smiling now, a tiny smile that lightens the shadows in his mutated features and makes him look almost human. “Our captain’s time is running out, I can practically taste it. Now we just have to survive to see his end.”

***

_David wakes up on_ The Observer _, the Royal Navy vessel assigned to carry the people allowed to leave Port Gale. The ship is heading back to the Royal Navy Headquarters on Port Robin, with two other stops along the way at Navy outposts, and the civilians are free to disembark at any of the three. It doesn’t really matter much to David, because the route they’re travelling on is parallel to Windboon Island, so it’s a question of when he wants to return to the reality of trying to find a way home._

_“Hey, I finally found you.”_

_The timbre of the low voice is vaguely familiar. David turns from staring blankly out at the ocean to meet the brown eyes of the soldier who had rescued him. It’s the first time he can get a clear look at the man; sunlight glints off reddish-brown hair, Navy hat apparently abandoned somewhere, with stubble framing a handsome face._

_“Erm, hello? I never said thank you – ” David breaks off mid-sentence, realising that he doesn’t know the older man’s name._

_“Lieutenant David Cook.” The soldier offers his hand, and David automatically reaches out to shake it._

_“Oh, that’s strange, I’m David too – I mean, my name is David, David Archuleta, nice to meet you,” he fumbles out._

_Lt. Cook grins roguishly at him, and belatedly David realises he’s still holding on to his hand. Flushing, he lets go._

_“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr Archuleta,” he’s still smiling, but David flinches back as if he’s been struck._

_“Please don’t call me that. Mr Archuleta is – was – my father.” David’s proud that his voice is steady._

_Lt. Cook’s eyes widen, and he apologises hastily. Before the conversation can lapse into awkward silence, he reaches back over his shoulder to unsling a cloth bag David hadn’t noticed until now, and hands it to him._

_David looks down at it, bewildered. There’s something heavy and bulky inside. “This isn’t mine.”_

_“Not the bag, but I thought you might want what’s inside it.” Lt. Cook rubs a hand over the back of his neck nervously, messing up the collar of his uniform jacket._

_David resists the urge to straighten his collar, and instead reaches in to discover a heavy stone urn. He glances up at the Lieutenant questioningly._

_Lt. Cook’s voice is cautious and hesitant, as though what he’s saying next will be unwelcome. “The dead in Port Gale, they’re cremated, because with the disease there wasn’t enough time or manpower for proper burial, and the bodies had to be dealt with quickly to reduce the risk of the disease spreading. I tried to tell them that your father didn’t die from the disease, but – ” He shrugs, watching David’s face closely._

_David tightens his fingers on the urn as the knowledge of what it contains hits him low in the gut. He stares down at it, stunned, blinking back sudden tears._

_A warm hand settles on his shoulder. David looks up through blurry vision to meet the other man’s sympathetic eyes. “I – I can’t thank you enough, Lieutenant. I thought I wouldn’t even have anything left of my father, that he would just – be gone, like that. I – ” He chokes on his words then, swallowing grief and loss and pain, trying to regain his composure._

_The Lieutenant waits patiently, hand still on David’s shoulder, somehow exuding support and comfort without saying a single word._

_Eventually, David pulls himself together, tucking the urn carefully back into the bag. He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed at breaking down in front of a stranger, because Lt. Cook steers him away with a hand on the small of his back, asking cheerfully, “You hungry?”_

_“What? I mean, yeah, I guess so.”_

_“That’s too bad, because Neal is on duty in the galley today, so we’re all gonna die from food poisoning.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“By the way, you don’t have to call me Lieutenant; Cook is just fine. It’s kind of weird for me calling you David, so do you mind Archie instead?”_

***

The glimpse of familiar reddish-brown hair from the corner of his eye is enough to lift the red haze from David’s mind. He falters, momentarily disconcerted, before he’s forced into motion again by the raging fight going on around him. He knocks aside a soldier who is turning his rifle in David’s direction, and ducks under a crewmate’s eight flailing limbs. Scaling the stairs for a better vantage point, David deliberately trips another crewmate who is about to sink his pincers into a soldier’s back.

Finally reaching the upper deck, he scans the crowd. It’s descended into a brawl by now; most of the soldiers have lost their weapons, and are grappling hand-to-claw with the crew. It’s a losing fight for the Navy, and it sickens David. He doesn’t doubt that by dawn, the _Flying Dutchman_ will have gained new crew members.

Something explodes at the far end of the ship, followed by a loud whoop. Looking up, David is greeted with the sight of the strange man with the dreadlocks and kohl-lined eyes swinging overhead on a rope. He crashes gracelessly into the sails of the ship, sliding down to land amidst the fighters. David tracks Jack Sparrow for several moments before his mind finally registers what his eyes just sighted. Jerking his attention back to the sails, or more specifically, the emblem on the sails, David feels a thrill twist through his gut when he realises he’s on _The Observer_. He wasn’t just hallucinating what he glimpsed a few minutes ago.

Cook is here.

It doesn’t take long to find him; most of the crew have appendages rather than hair, and almost all the Navy soldiers have somehow managed to keep their ridiculous hats on. David’s perfect night vision picks out the head of red-brown hair easily. Of course, Cook has misplaced his hat again.

He sends a quick prayer out for Sparrow and Bootstrap’s son, the ones who might just be able to defeat Davy Jones, before plunging into the fray.

Distantly, he notes the Navy reinforcements arriving, and the turn of the battle in the Navy’s favour. He doesn’t care – it won’t matter, even if the entire Navy fleet turns up. This is the sea, Davy Jones’ territory, and he never loses a battle here. 

David crashes into Grey Gil just as he is raising a knife to gut Cook, who has been thrown against a crate. Taking advantage of his surprise, David shoves the pirate towards a huddle of soldiers who have snatched up swords and cutlasses. He feels absolutely no guilt when Gil is run through by several blades, and lit on fire by a quick-thinking soldier. It won’t kill him, but it will keep him down for a while.

“Archie?”

David turns slowly back to Cook, dreading and longing at the same. He watches the open shock on Cook’s face melt into elation, then to confusion, and finally to realisation when his stare flits from David’s slit-pupil eyes to the ridges running down the sides of his jaw.

“ _Archie_ ,” Cook breathes his name with sorrow and pain and other unidentifiable emotions. David is trembling – it feels like a lifetime ago since he’s been called by anything other than ‘boy’ or ‘lad’. He drinks in the sight of Cook, hardly able to believe that he’s standing face-to-face with him. Cook is older and more haggard than the last time he had seen him at Port Robin three years ago.

“Stand down!” Cook snaps at the soldiers creeping up behind David, and there’s a shuffle of bewilderment. Under Cook’s glare, the soldiers move away to re-join the battle that is shifting away from them, leaving behind a pocket of quiet.

Cook drifts forward, eyes wide with wonder, raising a hand towards him, but David flinches away. The other man freezes, dropping his hand back to his side, staring at him with naked longing.

“I nearly went mad when your mother told me you never made it back home, Archie. I thought you were _dead_.” The heartache is almost tangible in Cook’s voice, choking it up so that the words emerge hoarse and strangled from his throat. “Andrew wrote that you were on a ship back to Windboon, and I waited and waited to hear from you, but _nothing_. I thought you’d changed your mind, but I wanted to try again, so I went to Windboon the first chance I got – but you weren’t even there. It took weeks for me to find out what happened, and _I thought you were dead_.”

Cook is shaking apart in front of him, and David can never bear to see anyone he loves in pain, and he has loved this man for years, even past his own death. It’s easy to fold his arms around him, and tuck his head into his neck, breathing in familiar scents of sea salt intermingled with sweat as Cook buries his face against his hair.

***

_Somehow, David finds himself in Port Robin living with Cook’s family, who run a tailoring business._

_“It’s totally fine, Archie. This is only until you can get back on your feet and earn enough money for a ticket back home.” Cook reassures him. He has an arm wrapped around David’s shoulders, pressed up warm and pleasant against his side. David tries not to read too much into it, convinces himself that Cook is a naturally affectionate person._

_The Cooks welcome him into their home, and are even more pleased when they discover that David is capable of managing a business’ finances. It turns out that the Cooks’ trade accounts have been in a mess ever since Cook’s elder brother, Adam, left to marry and settle down in another town further inland three months ago. Andrew, Cook’s younger brother, was supposed to have taken over from Adam, who had been in charge of the accounts. Apparently, however, Andrew is not particularly talented with numbers. Master and Mistress Cook try their best, but it’s hard to juggle so many responsibilities at once._

_They work out an arrangement; in exchange for helping out at the shop and the house, David will have a roof over his head and be paid a small sum. They estimate that he should earn enough to purchase a ticket back to Windboon Island in less than six months._

_“Before which my youngest son will, hopefully, have picked up from you the skill of balancing the accounts,” Mistress Cook says dryly._

_Cook’s ship will not sail for another month, so during that month Cook spends most of his time off duty around the shop and house. David steadfastly ignores the feeling that Cook is following him around, and brushes off the sly sideways glances Andrew gives them. Instead, he squashes his own burgeoning affection and simply enjoys the older man’s company. Cook is an excellent storyteller with a wicked sense of humour, though for a soldier who hunts pirates, he does seem inappropriately fond of them._

***

Time runs out for them when a deep, reverberating noise thrums through his bones. It’s deafening and rhythmic, and horrifying familiar. It’s a harbinger of death.

“You need to get to land!” David pulls away from the embrace and spins around, searching. There’s an island in the distance – far, but not impossible to reach. 

“Wait, wait, what’s going on?” Cook demands.

“There’s no time, you have to go! You’ll die if you stay here!”

A pair of hands grab firmly onto his shoulders as Cook tries to calm him down. “Archie, what’s happening?”

David shudders, each rhythmic beat clawing down his spine. “They’re summoning the kraken.”

The blood drains from Cook’s face, but he doesn’t let go. “Come with me.”

“Cook –”

“You can’t expect me to just leave you behind, not again!”

“You don’t understand; Cook, I’m bound to the _Dutchman_ , I can’t leave even if I want to!”

Cook’s face twists with despair, holding onto David like he’s afraid he’ll slip through his fingers and vanish any moment. Even though it goes against everything he wants, David carefully reaches up to pry his hands away, meeting that hazel gaze with his own, willing him to trust him.

“Cook, please, you need to go. I promise I’ll be fine.”

Finally, after what seems like a long time but is in fact only seconds, Cook nods with a small jerky movement. He draws him into another embrace, and David is selfish enough to cling tight.

“Port Royal, two weeks from now,” Cook murmurs against his hair. “Kyle runs a repair shop down by the docks. He’ll know where I am.”

Cook doesn’t let David have a chance to reject him. Releasing him, he gives one last lingering look before moving away, shouting to his comrades.

The bone-rattling summoning of the kraken continues, and instinct is telling him to flee this doomed ship, but he watches as Cook herds the few remaining soldiers towards the railings before hoisting himself up and over. David stares down at the roiling waves, terrified, until Cook’s head bobs up and latches onto a floating barrel.

Casting one last look at Cook’s figure drifting towards land, he focuses and melts away into the sea to return to his captain and his ship.

***

_Denial is difficult to maintain when one evening, Cook’s hands are resting on David’s hips as he kisses him deeply, and David is returning the kiss with equal fervour, heart pounding. He can’t remember which of them started it, only that a minute ago they were laughing together at some joke, leaning in each other’s personal space, and now – this. Not that he has a problem with this, not at all._

_They break apart a few minutes later, panting._

_“I’m sorry,” Cook mutters._

_“Don’t be,” he responds breathlessly._

_That is the beginning._

_The rest of the month before Cook has to leave passes in a blur, during which David receives from Cook some bizarre courting gifts, including a hand-carved wooden parrot and a large feathery hat in a hideous shade of green. Once, Cook even serenades him under the moonlit sky, making David tear up, touched, even as Andrew insults his brother’s singing and throws an apple at him from the second-floor bedroom window._

_Eventually, however, duty calls Cook back to the sea. He takes with him the urn containing the ashes of David’s father, and a letter from David explaining everything. Cook will drop them off at his home when The Observer docks at Windboon Island for resupply._

_David promises to keep safe and to wait for him._

***

Bootstrap was right.

The crew feels it when Will Turner stabs Davy Jones’ heart and becomes the new captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. The change is fundamental; Will Turner was a very different man from Davy Jones, and the crew is the better for it, evidenced by the disappearance of all physical fish-like traits. A fog lifts from his mind, and David can think clearly for the first time in years. He looks down at the corpses littering the deck after yet another battle, and feels the crystal sharp edge of revulsion and horror and guilt. He feels _human_.

Captain Turner is a far kinder man than his predecessor, and he points David in the direction of the repair shop at Port Royal before disappearing with his wife for their one day together.  
It seems like the trouble is not over yet, because he discovers from Kyle that Cook, the fool that he is, has gotten himself locked up in prison with two of his friends for deserting the Royal Navy. David doesn’t even hesitate before going to rescue them. 

In the basement, there’s no way to sneak up on the Navy soldier pacing in front of the only occupied cell, so he doesn’t try. Steeling himself and trying not to panic, he takes the last step down the stairs and turns the corner so that he’s in the man’s direct line of sight.

“Hey, um, you!” David half-shouts uncertainly. The soldier freezes.

“Who are you?” The large man demands as David inches closer. “You aren’t allowed down here!”

“I – um, want you to release the prisoners you’re guarding?” It’s unlikely to happen, but it never hurts to be polite, right? David had been raised with good manners.

The soldier’s jaw gapes open. In the cell behind him, an incredulous Cook asks, “Archie?”

Before David can respond, the guard finally finds his voice. “Halt, intruder!” Unfortunately, this is immediately followed by the man lunging forward, apparently forgetting about his rifle and instead intent on wrestling David to the ground.

The other man is taller and heavier than him, but serving on a cursed ship means David is much stronger. Instinct leads David to brace himself as the man collides with him, turning the momentum against him and throwing the soldier back.

The large man goes flying backwards, the bars of the cell behind him giving way under the impact and the body crashing down inside the space in front of three stunned men.

“You’ve got strange friends, Dave,” Neal remarks, eyeing his knocked out former comrade lying on the twisted remains of the bars.

“What does that say about us, then?” The third man, thin with short brown hair, mutters. He cautiously reaches out to nudge the unconscious man, who moans pathetically but doesn’t wake up. 

“Archie? What are you doing here?” Cook looks shell-shocked. His slim friend – _“The small guy is Andy,” Kyle says, “but don’t tell him I said that.”_ – starts picking his way out from the cell, unceremoniously kicking the guard’s feet out of the way. Neal and Cook follow.

“Um, rescuing you? Kyle told me about how you guys tried to run away but were caught and locked up here, so I came to see if I could get you out, and the Navy needs better security because I sneaked down here really easily, and _oh my heck_ I didn’t mean to throw him that hard but he was jumping at me and I just reacted! I only wanted to knock him out so I could get the keys to unlock the door –” David’s breath _whooshes_ out of him when Neal smacks him on the back as he passes.

“Good to see you again. Nice throw, kid.”

“Um, thanks?”

Andy smiles easily at him as he trails after Neal. “Nice to meet you, Archie. Thanks for the rescue!”

By the time Cook steps slowly up to David, Neal and Andy have disappeared up the stairs, and the two of them are left in silence.

“You shouldn’t have done this, Archie. You could have been caught.” Cook’s voice is quiet, belying the intensity in his eyes.

David shrugs. “We said we’d meet here.”

Cook reaches a hand out to cup his cheek, stroking his jaw softly with a thumb. “What happened?”

“I have a new captain. He’s much better than Davy Jones.”

He tilts his head questioningly. “Does that mean you can leave?”

The hopelessness of their situation catches up with David again, misery eating at his insides. He’s been thinking this over for years, and he still hasn’t found a solution. “Cook, I drowned three years ago. If the captain cuts me loose, it just means I’ll move onto the afterlife. I won’t be here anymore. If I stay, I’m bound to the ship.”

Cook nods slowly. “Okay, so you stay like this for now. We’ll figure something out.”

David tries to say something, but Cook is leaning down with a hungry, desperate kiss which gentles into _I missed you_ and _I love you_ and _I’ll wait for you_. David presses closer, feeling like this man he loves so much is breathing life back into him, but he knows he can’t have this, can’t be selfish and hold onto someone who doesn’t belong in the same world as him. Doing so will only lead down a path of heartbreak as the years slip past.

When the kiss ends, David prepares himself to tell Cook to let go, to forget him, but the older man reads it in his eyes and stops him. “Don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, don’t say it.”

“Cook, you can’t –” _Can’t wait for me forever. You don’t have forever._

Cook’s response is another soft kiss, telling him _I’ll wait as long as I can_.

David Cook has always been his soul, hope and redemption. In the face of that, the will and strength for denial leeches out of him, and David doesn’t know what else he can do. What else Cook can do.

Outside, Cook’s friends wait, and this is how it goes – they will spend the rest of their days on the run, all of them fugitives in the eye of the law. Cook will search endlessly for a resolution, travelling to the ends of the world and back, and he may or may not succeed. In the meantime, he will love an immortal pirate who sails the seas between two realms, ferrying the souls of the dead. The pirate will love him back, and they will meet on the sea under moonlit skies, and they will cherish whatever time they have together.

***

_David leaves Port Robin on a sunny morning, but he never makes it back home._

_There is a wild storm, churning waves, relentless winds and the passenger ship breaking into pieces._

_There is cold, darkness, piercing agony, and then there is nothing._

_The unforgiving sea claims him._

_“Do you fear death? Do you fear that dark abyss?”_

_David thinks of his mother and siblings, waiting for their son and brother to return to them._

_“Serve me, and postpone that final judgement.”_

_David thinks of Cook, warm lips on his, happy grin lighting up his face._

_“Will ye serve?”_

_He’s already broken his promise to remain safe, but he can keep the one to wait for him._

_“I will serve.”_


End file.
